


I'm Not In Love (This Is Not Your Song)

by lucifucker



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, The Academy Is - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Harassment, actually, author is quality at tagging, boys being stupid because thats what they do, but not like, gaaay, gabilliam 4 life, its not bad trust me nothing bad ever happens, joetrick is very minor but i couldnt resist, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:44:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifucker/pseuds/lucifucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe stumbles onto the Academy bus at three in the morning halfway through Honda Civic tour with a bloody nose that's gushing so bad that his shirt is stained red and his mouth is dripping,  but he's laughing, smiling and grinning so wide that William can see his eyes crinkling.</p><p>"Bilvy!" He exclaims, stumbling toward William and collapsing against the doorframe for a moment before launching forward again, almost falling over until William catches him, bracing himself with one hand on Gabe's chest and the other on his side. "Bilvy, I'm in love!"</p><p>----</p><p>In which William keeps taking care of Gabe when he gets hurt, and is bad at saying three very simple words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not In Love (This Is Not Your Song)

**Author's Note:**

> for Isabelle, may you always be patient when I post fics four months after you prompt me them.

Gabe stumbles onto the Academy bus at three in the morning halfway through Honda Civic tour with a bloody nose that's gushing so bad that his shirt is stained red and his mouth is dripping,  but he's laughing, smiling and grinning so wide that William can see his eyes crinkling.

"Bilvy!" He exclaims, stumbling toward William and collapsing against the doorframe for a moment before launching forward again, almost falling over until William catches him, bracing himself with one hand on Gabe's chest and the other on his side. "Bilvy, I'm in love!"

 

William stares at him for a long second while Gabe breathes heavily into his face, his breath stinking of gin and blood, and then smiles, slides the arm on his side all the way around him and drags him to come sit by the kitchen table.

"Yeah?" He chuckles, and avidly forces himself not to scream while he grabs a clean dishtowel off the counter and presses it to Gabe's nose. "She give you this?"

 

"He." Gabe says, making doe-eyes at William and grinning, if possible, wider. "His name's Josh, and he's got more tattoos than Andy, and I love him." William raises his eyebrow.

"And he did this?" William's hand freezes where he's pressing the cloth to Gabe's face, and Gabe shakes his head fervently.

"Nonononono." He mumbles, his eyes going wide as his fingers curl in Williams shirt. "Bill. Bill. Billiam." He shakes his head again, and William checks the towel, finding slightly less blood than before. "He wouldn't. He'd never. No." And he's so sincere that William can't even begin to question.

"Okay." He says, and Gabe continues to stare imploringly at him, and William runs his fingers through the hair on the side of Gabe's head, and smiles. "Okay, Gabey."

 

Gabe grins, and leans into William's hand, and it's almost enough.

  


-0-

 

Three weeks later William comes in to find Gabe on the couch, legs propped up on one edge, staring at the ceiling and taking swigs out of a bottle of something faintly brown.

 

He looks like such a fucking breakup cliche, and William loves him.

 

There's room enough at the other end of the couch for William's skinny-ass body, but when he sits down, Gabe shifts and lays his head on William's lap, letting the bottle come to rest on the ground as he presses his face into his friends thigh.

"Hurts, Bilvy." He mumbles, and William lets his hand rest on the back of Gabe's neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse point.

"I know, baby." He says softly, and Gabe closes his eyes.

 

He falls asleep like that, and William, in spite of the fact that his leg has long since fallen into numbness, does not get up.

 

-0-

 

Milwaukee is great, fucking perfect, actually, because William plays Same Blood and Gabe runs out onstage and starts singing with him, and halfway through What A Catch, Patrick and Pete start shouting for them to come out, and they do, and it's incredible.

 

It remains incredible until after, when they've snuck out the back door and are on their way to a diner of all places, because Gabe wanted a fucking cheeseburger deluxe that wasn't microwaved, and Ryland is laughing and running and high on life, and Joe’s got one arm around Patrick’s shoulders blushing just a little when he leans over and pecks a kiss to his cheek, and they’re all happy, really fucking happy, until they pass by a group of what have got to be truckers or something (considering the fact that they're next to a parking lot full of trucks, William would say that's a pretty fucking good bet), and one slaps William's ass and asks him if he wants to come for a ride.

 

William raises an eyebrow, and keeps walking, because yeah, this happens, it's nothing new.

 

Until this giant fucking asshole, whoever he is, grabs his arm, his hand huge and hot and sweaty against William's bicep, grip like a fucking vice, and says _I'm not fucking finished with you, yet._

 

And it's not so much that William understands what's happening, as it is that he realizes that all of a sudden, the hand isn't on his arm anymore, and this guy is on the ground with Gabe on top of him, pummeling him into the concrete, and all William can even think to do is watch.

 

It's not a long fight, only lasts thirty seconds, tops, but by the end, it takes both Joe and Pete to pull Gabe off this guy,  Gabe, who shakes them off as soon as he's standing again, and storms off, makes a beeline for the nearest alley while Marcus lifts the asshole up off the ground and drags him away, and William has to smile a little at that because Marcus isn't even his fucking security guy, but they've gotten to the point at which it doesn't matter.

 

He faintly feels Patrick's hand on his arm, the one that didn't just have some gross, meaty dickbag grabbing it, and hears him asking if he's okay, but he's not really listening.

 

It's not so much a decision as it is a compulsion to follow Gabe, wave Pete off when he starts to follow, and honestly, looking back to check wasn't necessary,  because Pete's always fucking coming to check on Gabe, they're like fucking brothers, how could he not?

 

But now's not the time for the Pete Treatment, and that becomes apparent as William rounds the corner of the alley and notes Gabe with his forehead pressed against the brick wall, and his fingers curled as tight as they'll go in his short hair, blood oozing from his broken knuckles.

 

It's all gentle nudging and careful touches, because Gabe doesn't want to move, and refuses to speak, but William eventually gets him back around the venue and into the Academy bus, giving the guys a meaningful look as they walk the other way down the street, the special I've got this, just go, I'll explain later look, that he's perfected at this point.

 

He gets Gabe to sit down on the couch in the front foyer and grabs the shitty little first aid kit they keep above the stove. He wets a paper towel with warm water, and kneels down in front of Gabe where he's got his head between his knees, runs his fingers slowly through the older man's hair until Gabe's shoulders unknot, just slightly, just enough that William can pull both of his hands toward him and run the towel over them, gently wiping away the already crusted blood and the fresh stuff that's still sluggishly coming out. He pulls out the gauze he's learned to keep handy, and slowly, carefully wraps it around Gabe's hands, taping it with practiced ease, and then turning them over to look down at his palms.

 

Gabe's silent and still, staring down at William's hands in his as William grazes his thumbs over the bandages on Gabe's knuckles and then leans down and brushes his lips over them. Gabe's fingers shift, sliding up to cup William's cheeks, and pulling his face up until they come eye-to-eye, with William kneeling between Gabe's thighs. He reaches up slowly, and lets his own hands settle on the sides of Gabe's neck, pulling him down until their foreheads rest together.

 

" _Lo siento_ , Guillermito." Gabe mumbles, and William cards his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Gabe's head, pushes himself up and climbs into Gabe's lap to press his face into the crook of his neck.

 

"S'okay, Gabey-baby, I forgive you for defending me from the creepy trucker guy." He murmurs back, letting the smile creep into his voice, and he feels instead of sees Gabe's face split into a wide grin.

 

"Love you, Bilvy." He chuckles, and William's heart skips a very literal beat.

He’s silent as he strokes the back of Gabe’s neck.

 

-0-

 

Tour ends, and there is, unsurprisingly, a party at Brendon’s house, which are famously wild, and when they get there Patrick and Joe are noticeably absent, which is confusing, because Joe is usually all about this shit, and Patrick usually follows Joe, so it makes little sense that Pete and Andy are the only Fall Out Boy representatives, but when William asks Pete, he just shrugs.

“They’re working out some shit.” He mutters, and Andy nods slightly, his only form of contribution to the conversation. “Important shit.” Nothing else needs to be said. They all know the Patrick And Joe story.

 

The Patrick and Joe ‘I love you but I’m too insecure to tell you’ story that they’ve all been watching unfold on both sides since they can all remember and are kind of sick of having to watch, honestly.

 

They show up together, but Pete drags Gabe away to meet someone he’s magically never interacted with before, and William’s phone rings, so he steps outside onto Brendon’s back porch, where Sisky and Ryland have already busied themselves with a game of beer pong.

“Hello?”

“William. How do you feel about a European tour?” He blinks, and then swallows, hard.

“Hello to you, too, Butch.”

“Hello, William, how are you, how’s the family, how’s the boyfriend, whatever.” Butch is so clearly annoyed that William is pretty sure he can feel it seeping into his skin through the phone as he goes on. “You. The band. Europe. Four weeks. Yes, or no?” William looks over at Sisky and Ryan, and looks back down at his hands.

“Yeah, we’ve been working on some good stuff with Cobra and—“

“Not Cobra. Just you.”  William snaps his mouth shut and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“The label’s only sponsoring Academy, not Cobra.” William’s quiet for a second, because really, this shouldn’t be his decision.

“I need to talk to the guys.”

“And I need an answer by the morning.” Butch says simply. “Call me when you know.” The line goes dead, and William stares at his phone for a second before he shoves it back in his pocket.

“Adam.” He says, just loud enough for Sisky to hear, and his head jerks up from where he’s positioning obnoxiously red cups on the lawn table. He straightens up and comes over, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Butch wants us to do a Europe tour.” Adam’s face lights up and he opens his mouth to speak, but William cuts him off. “Without Cobra.”   His face falls.

“What—why—“

“The label’ll only sponsor us.” Adam swallows, and nods, his eyes flicking back toward Ryland, briefly.

“I’ll talk to the rest of the guys.” He says slowly, and William looks down. “You should ask Gabe.” He looks up, and quirks an eyebrow.

“Why should I talk to Gabe?”

“Because you’re going to Europe without him?” William blinks.

“Why does that—“

“You know why, Bill.” And there’s really no room for argument, there, so he doesn’t try, just nods and turns to go back inside.

Which, honestly, might have been a mistake, because first, Alex grabs him and tries to get him to ‘use those famous hips for some goodwill toward man’ and then he’s just enmeshed in this throng of people, trapped on all sides, and he wishes Patrick and Joe had worked out their stupid (incredibly important and honestly heartwrenching) feelings earlier so he didn’t have to be alone in this.

 

And he’s not freaking out, he’s really not, there’s just a lot going on and he’s got so many thoughts and they’re all fighting or whatever and his head hurts, and then there’s a hand, long fingers that wrap all the way around his bicep, and an arm sliding around his waist from behind, and someone is steering him out of the crowd, moving fluidly between bodies until they reach the stairs.

He turns around once they’re on the landing, and he doesn’t need to ask, doesn’t even need to look, just wraps his arms around Gabe’s middle and buries his face in his shirt, lets himself be pressed back against the wall by his weight while Gabe’s arms slide around his hips, holding him close.

“You okay?” It’s soft, whispered into his hair, and William nods.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, and closes his eyes. “Butch called. The label wants us to go to Europe.” Gabe’s arms tighten around him, just slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt. “But…without…you.”

There’s a long beat of silence where William feels like his blood has just stopped moving in his veins, the only sound between them his still slightly ragged breathing, before Gabe speaks.

“You should do it.”  He says, and his voice is hard, and hurt, and a little rough around the edges, and William pushes him back just enough to see his face, which might be a mistake, because Gabe’s pupils are blown just a little wide and his jaw is clenched tight, his mouth pressed into a tight line the way it always is when he’s upset but doesn’t want William to know.

“Gabe…” William murmurs, moving his hands around to cup his cheeks, and fuck, sometimes he forgets to remember just how soft Gabe’s skin is, warm and welcoming and so smooth it fucking hurts. “I don’t…want…to fuck anything up.”

Gabe snorts.

“There’s nothing to fuck up, Bill.” He shrugs. “You go, you do your thing, you come back, eventually. That’s it.” Gabe’s hands are slowly inching away from him, withdrawing into himself, and because Gabe’s doing it, he’s doing it, and soon they’re standing apart.

“Nothing to fuck up?” William asks, and Gabe grinds his teeth a little bit, and jerks his head to the side, but William’s not letting this go, because if there’s nothing to fuck up then there’s nothing at all, and if Gabe’s about to tell him after this many years of friendship, and brothers, and ‘forever’ that there’s nothing there, he’s going to get his ass kicked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Gabe glares at him and shakes his head, takes a step back, and starts to turn away.

“It doesn’t matter.” He mutters, and William sets his jaw and reaches out, grabbing his arm before he can get away.

“No. No, it matters.” He growls, pulling Gabe closer and motioning between the two of them with his free hand. “This matters.” Gabe stares at him for a second, and shakes his head again, jerking his arm out of William’s grasp.

“Leave me alone, William.” His voice is low, and dangerous, and Patrick’s always telling William that he’s not good at avoiding danger, but this is ridiculous. Because Gabe chose Cobra, chose to do something ridiculous and stupid just to prove a point, and chose to give up on Midtown, and William is not letting him choose to let go of him, too.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and Gabe’s eyes widen just slightly. “Fuck you, if you’re gonna pretend this doesn’t mean anything.” Gabe’s face goes dark, and before William is fully aware of what’s happening, he’s being thrown back against the wall, and Gabe’s face is an inch from his.

“Tell me.” He hisses, and it’s moments like this that William remembers why Gabe can front a band as shit as Cobra and still have thousands of fans screaming for him. Because he’s filled with so much energy, and so much power, and his arms are bracketing William’s head on both sides, and he’s never been scared of Gabe in his life, has never needed to be, but right now his heart is thundering around his chest. “Tell me what this means, because I sure as shit don’t know.” William’s mouth remains shut tight, because the fuck if he knows.

He knows he loves Gabe, knows he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves Gabe. He knows some nights he wakes up hard and panting because he’s been dreaming of wide smiles and long, clever fingers. He knows he’s fallen asleep with Gabe pressed behind him more nights than he can remember, and he knows that those are the nights he really sleeps.

And he knows that Gabe has dated seven boys and twelve girls in the past year, and fucked more than twice as many.

Gabe stares down at him, and then nods, and pushes back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“That’s what I thought.” He looks at the ground, and his shoulders are taught, in the way they only ever are when he’s in too much pain to keep them smooth. “Leave me the fuck alone, Bill.” He says, not even looking up at William’s face, and then steps down the stairs without a backward glance, melting back into the crowd seamlessly.

William stands very still and doesn’t cry.

 

 

It takes all of about two hours before Ryan and Pete are dragging a drunk, wild-eyed Gabe over.

“He won’t tell me what’s wrong.” Pete whines, throwing Gabe down onto the bed where William’s been reading one of Brendon’s Proust books. Gabe, to his credit, doesn’t try to run away, which is something. “Fix him.”

And of course, they brought him here, because this is what people do, when Gabe breaks. They bring him to William, and William fucking fixes it, because that’s Williams fucking job, and it doesn’t matter if they’re fighting or if they’re not ‘speaking to each other’. Gabe is William’s.

Pete shakes his head as he leaves, and Ryan pats his shoulder and somehow manages to not make it awkward as he leaves.

William sets the book aside, and turns toward Gabe, who has now pressed his face into his pillow. He reaches out, slowly, and cards his fingers through Gabe’s hair, smiling, just slightly, when Gabe shifts up into the touch.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He sighs, and Gabe rolls over, presses his face into William’s thigh.

“M’sorry, Bilvy.” He mumbles, and William closes his eyes, and leans back against the wall, stroking the side of his head. Gabe’s voice is small, and muffled. “D’you hate me?”

“Gabe.” He says softly, shaking his head, and sliding his hand down to cup the side of the older man’s neck. “Gabey, no.” Gabe pushes himself up, albeit slowly, crawls up William until he’s sitting, straddling William’s lap, with his arms around William’s neck.

“I love you.” Gabe says firmly, hard, and desperate, and more than a little drunk. “I love you, William, _mi vida, mi sol_.”

“I know.” William whispers, and nudges Gabe’s nose with his own, letting his eyes slide shut. “I know, baby, okay?” He wants to say it back, wants more than anything to tils that extra inch and lock their lips together, but he doesn't. Can't. 

Gabe groans, and William doesn’t know why, but he slides back down and rests his head on William’s chest, and they’re silent for a long time.

 

-0-

 

They don’t talk about it, but something changes.

 

William drives over to Gabe’s the Tuesday after the party to find the house empty. He falls asleep on Gabe’s couch, like he has a thousand times when he’s not there, but it feels wrong.

 

He wakes up warmer than before, with an arm thrown around his waist, and he’s suddenly thankful for Gabe’s stupid minimalist furniture because it means his couch can actually fit two people. He shifts, and the arm tightens slightly before sliding off him.

They stay like that for a long time, but now, instead of pressing closer, Gabe shifts away.

 

-0-

 

It continues like that for days. They hang out just as much as they used to, William’s not ready to go all the way back to Cali yet, and Gabe says he doesn’t mind him being there, but it’s different.

 

They don’t touch, as much, now, and Wiliam never noticed, before, just how much they did, but now that it’s gone, he misses the way Gabe’s hand would find his when they walked side-by-side, Gabe’s fingers in his hair when they’d watch TV, the simple warmth of Gabe’s arm pressed against his.

 

He calls Patrick, but it’s not much help.

 

“It doesn’t feel right, Trick.” Patrick sighs, and William can practically feel him shaking his head.

 

“Bill, we just got off tour. I can’t even  _look_ at Pete, yet, let alone live with him.”

 

“Yeah but you always hate Pete, Gabe never hates me.”

 

“He doesn’t hate you.”

 

“You know what I mean.” There’s a beat of silence, and then;

 

“Yeah, I do.” William flicks his gaze up toward where Gabe’s in the kitchen, glaring at a box of instant Mac and Cheese like it’s offended him, and has to fight back his smile.

 

“What should I do?”

 

“Give him some space, maybe? You haven’t even come home yet.” William is acutely aware of this, and part of him misses home, but a much larger part wants to pretend that this tour never ended.

 

And he knows its selfish, and ridiculous, and a little obsessive, maybe, but for all of HCT it was him, and Gabe, and the rest of the guys are important, and he loves them, but he always had Gabe there, and he doesn’t want to let go of that.

 

He wants to say that, wants to ask Patrick for help, but he can’t. Instead, he asks;

 

“Do any of your guys get like this?” He can see Patrick shrugging from across the country, he’s sure of it.

 

“Andy gets kinda quiet, but he’s always quiet, and Pete has his whole...post-tour depression thing, but...generally that just makes him more clingy, honestly.” William nods, and raises his eyebrows.

 

“And Joe?” Patrick’s quiet for a long moment, and William watches Gabe dump the entire box of noodles into the not-even-slightly-boiling-water.

 

“Joe...is complicated.” And his voice has that special air of finality that William knows better than to press, so he asks about Bronx instead.

 

Regardless of how much he wants to point out that on the last day of tour, Joe had looked probably more alone than William had ever seen him before when Patrick drove away.

 

-0-

 

He doesn’t talk to Gabe about it, just books his flight and over dinner the night before says;

“I’m going home, tomorrow.” Gabe, to his credit, doesn’t react more than to bite down a little ferociously on his garlic bread. He wipes his mouth, and looks up, wide-eyed, and vulnerable, and William hates how much he loves him.

“Okay.” William nods, just a little, and goes back to his food, and that’s the end of it.

 

That night, he wakes up when a new weight appears in his bed, and he’s honest-to-god confused for a minute, until Gabe’s fingers seek him out under the blankets, and Gabe’s cold-ass toes are pressing into the backs of his calves.

 

He never used to question people (Gabe) crawling into bed with him. It never used to be a foreign occurance.

 

He legs Gabe pull him back against his chest, and latches on to the arm that winds its way around his waist, savoring the feeling of Gabe touching him while he can.

 

Sleep doesn’t come easy after that.  

  
  


-0-

 

Two weeks later, he's been out of the US for ten days, and Gabe calls at what he figures out is four AM in America, sounding stuffy, and tired, and alone. William curls up in his bunk, and glares at Sisky when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively like the giant douchebag he is(n't).

 

"Hey, baby." William whispers, because fuck Sisky and his fucking bat hearing. "How's Jersey?"

 

"Cold." Gabe says in a voice that's too small for someone who towers over almost all his friends. "Pete's here. He told me to call you before I went to bed." And now he knows something is wrong, because Gabe didn't even make a 'wentz to bed' joke.

 

"Are you okay?" He says softly, and the answering silence makes his stomach clench. It's a full minute (he counts) before Gabe answers, and when he does, his voice is hoarse.

 

"I miss you." He rasps, and William closes his eyes, because seriously, this is not fair. Because tour’s been great, really fucking great, enthralling and amazing as ever, but it’s not home, and it’s not Gabe.

 

"I miss you, too." He murmurs, and Gabe sniffs.

 

"Can I come see you?" William tucks his knees up to his chest, and nods slowly.

 

"We're hitting Sydney on…" He flicks his eyes up to the schedule he's taped to the ceiling of his bunk. "Thursday. You wanna fly out?" Gabe's quiet for a second, and William can hear his breathing and the sound of his fingers tapping on the keys of his laptop.

 

"Yeah." He finally says, and William lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yeah, I can…I can do that." It's still quiet, but he sounds a little stronger, now.

 

"Okay." William can't help but grin as he rests his head against the side of the bunk. "You gonna go to sleep soon?" Gabe's quiet for a moment.

 

"M'tired, yeah." He yawns, and then says something too quiet for William to hear.

 

"What was that?"

 

"Sing to me?" William's silent for a long moment, and then he nods.

 

"Okay." He pushes his hair out of his face. "Which one do you want?"

 

"Oh, Love." Gabe says, but it's muffled, like he's pressed his face into his pillow already.

 

"Okay." William murmurs, and starts to sing, a little shaky at first, but gaining confidence as he substitutes each 'she' and 'her' for 'he' and 'him', hearing Gabe's little huff of laughter.

 

He wonders if Gabe would laugh if he knew that that’s how the song originally went when William first wrote it.

 

He wonders if Gabe would laugh if he knew that it was written for him.

 

William sings until he Gabe's breathing evens out, and then whispers 'goodnight' and hangs up.

 

When he looks up, Sisky is leaning on his bunk and giving him that look.

 

"What?" Adam rolls his eyes.

 

"What yourself. You know what."

 

"I really don't." William mutters, tossing his phone down and pulling his notebook toward him.

 

"Whatever." Sisky groans. "But generally the only people I sing to sleep are my girlfriends." William raises an eyebrow.

 

"You don't sing people to sleep. You don't sing. And you shouldn't. Ever."

“Shut up, Beckett.”

 

Sisky wanders off to do whatever it is that Siskys do, and William, on instinct, calls Patrick.

 

“He’s coming to Sidney.” Is the first thing he says, and Patrick’s quiet for a second.

 

“Be careful.” He murmurs, because it’s fucking Patrick, of course he doesn’t need to explain this to Patrick.

 

“I’ll try. How’s everyone?”

 

“Good. We’re good.” It sounds forced, and William tells him as much. Patrick sighs.

 

“Joe’s...not…” He sounds like somethings not right, and William can hear it, but he doesn’t interrupt. “Joe wants things he thinks he wants but doesn’t actually want, and I...want things I actually want, and it doesn’t line up right.” William rolls his eyes, and shakes his head, because this is ridiculous.

 

“Trick, I’m gonna say this once, and you’re gonna shut up and listen, okay?” He keeps his voice as flat and concrete as he can, and Patrick says nothing so he assumes he’s got an OK to go on. “Joe Trohman has been in love with you since he was sixteen years old.” He hears Patrick’s sharp intake of breath, but cuts him off. “No. Shut up. It’s been Seven years, Patrick. Seven. Years.” And usually he holds this shit in, because Patrick’s not fragile, but he’s definitely argumentative, and if you piss him off he’ll just get stubborn and start making up bullshit reasons why you’re wrong, and this is definitely a delicate situation, but William’s run out of patience for this. “So stop torturing him, and yourself, and just be fucking happy for once, okay?”

 

There’s a long span of quiet where the only thing he hears is Patrick chewing on what sounds like a pen, and then;

 

“I gotta go.” William groans, and leans back against the wall.

 

“Love you, Trick.”

 

“Love you.”

  


-0-

  


Three days later, William’s standing in the baggage claim of Sydney International Airport, leaning against the wall and searching the crowd for stupid sunglasses and a purple hoodie. He pushes off to wander around, possibly toward the bathroom because Gabe says that airplane bathrooms are ‘too clean’ for him, which is a) ridiculous and b) not true, but whatever.

Gabe comes out of nowhere, barreling into him like a Green Bay Packer at the superbowl, and William has to struggle to stay standing as long arms wrap around his waist, curling tight about his entire frame and crushing him as close and as hard as Gabe possibly can.

It’s more instinct than decision to hug back, fold Gabe’s skinny body up in his arms and press his face into the crook of his neck, stroking his fingers over the curls that have started to form on the back of Gabe’s head while he inhales deeply the scent of cigarettes and unwashed hoodies.

“Hey.” He whispers, and Gabe doesn’t say anything, just pulls William, if possible, closer, fingers curling tight in the back of his jacket, and he’s not shaking, not exactly, but he’s sort of trembling, like he’s been tapping his foot too long and it spread to the rest of his body.

 

William pulls back, having to exert not a little bit of force to get Gabe to loosen his grip, and slides his hands up over his chest to frame his face with both hands. Gabe’s eyes are closed, and he’s breathing just a little rougher than usual, and his hands are still clutching at William’s sides, like he’s afraid to let go.

 

He’s beautiful.

 

“Hey.” William says again, if possible, softer this time, and strokes his thumbs over Gabe’s cheekbones, noting the dark circles that have formed under his eyes, the fact that he hasn’t shaved his hair down in what William can only guess is about a month, the rawness of his lips where he’s bitten them too hard, too often. Gabe’s eyes flick open, and they’re wide, and bloodshot, and gorgeous. He looks down at William and doesn’t smile, and when he exhales out, slowly, his breath smells like mint.

 

He probably brushed his teeth before getting off the plane, the dork.

 

“How was your flight?” William asks, as Gabe reaches one hand up, tangling it in his hair.

 

“I love you.” It’s abrupt, and completely unexpected, and William can’t hold back the grin that spreads over his face like wildfire, even has he’s wondering what exactly prompted it. Gabe’s eyebrows furrow, and he licks his lips. “Don’t punch me, okay?”

 

William’s smile fades, and he shakes his head as if to ask

but he gets his answer before he can even voice the question when Gabe leans down and presses what has to be the worlds softest kiss to his lips.

 

And he knows he should pull away, he knows he should stop and ask why, and ask what, and probably punch Gabe, but he can’t.

 

Because Gabe’s hand is in his hair and his other one is on his waist, and he’s holding William like he’s scared he’ll break, and William has waited for

So instead of doing all the things he should do, he presses closer, opens his mouth against Gabe’s and keeps his hands steady and sure on the sides of the older man’s neck, because before they’re in bands, and before they’re fighting, and before everything else, Gabe is Gabe, and William is William, and he’s there to keep him as stable as he can.

 

By the time Gabe finally pulls back and rests his forehead against William’s  their bodies are pressed tightly together, with William’s arms wrapped tightly around Gabe’s neck, and Gabe’s hands bunched in the fabric of William’s t-shirt.

 

“So,” Gabe rasps, and William closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “I’m kind of basically in love with you.”

 

William nods minutely and kisses Gabe again, once, twice, until he’s breathing normally again. His chest clenches as he opens his mouth to speak, and his throat feels like it’s filled with sandpaper, because when you’ve held something in this long it kind of gets stuck there, but he manages to get the words out, somehow.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

Gabe’s grin is like the sun, and William thinks he could look at it forever.

  
  


EPILOGUE:

 

“So you’re together, now.” Patrick says, sipping his coffee and staring at Gabe over his dining room table while William helps Joe with the dishes in the kitchen. Gabe nods, a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be when you’re telling your boyfriends basically-an-older-brother that you’re boning him?

 

Patrick sighs, and rubs a hand over his face, but he’s smiling.

 

“You won’t fuck this up.” It’s not a question, or a threat. It’s a statement of fact, and Gabe appreciates that. He looks through the archway at where William’s standing, elbow-deep in sudsy water, handing Joe plates and cups to rinse, and shakes his head.

 

“I won’t.” His gaze shifts back to Patrick, and he smirks, jerking his head toward the kitchen. “You know Pete’ll kill you if you damage his guitar prodigy.” Guitar prodigy, little brother, best friend, everything, Gabe’s heard Pete call Joe all of them. Patrick shrugs.

 

“I’d kill me, first.” He says simply, looking down at his cup, but he’s still smiling.

 

William lopes back over, drying his hands off on a dishtowel while Joe follows close behind, and plants himself easily in Gabe’s lap, crossing his long legs over the chair he’s supposed to be sitting in.

 

“You’re not giving him the talk, right?” He demands, giving Patrick what Gabe can only assume is his best piercing glare. Gabe pokes him in the ribs while Joe laughs.

 

“What, I wasn’t supposed to threaten a shotgun wedding if he gets you pregnant?” Patrick asks, all wide-eyed innocence, and Gabe watches his and Joe’s hands link together on top of the table while William kicks aimlessly at him under the table.

 

It’s basically perfect.

 

 


End file.
